


Light

by BDBriggs



Series: Briggs the Seeker [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, Loss of Faith, Rated for minor violence and swearing, canon events mentioned but my grasp of lore is shaky at best, it starts out dark but there's a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BDBriggs/pseuds/BDBriggs
Summary: When Briggs was a child, she was afraid of the dark.A look at Briggs' relationship with the Light throughout her life.





	Light

**Author's Note:**

> My first (published) story featuring my OC, Briggs. My grasp on WoW lore is shaky at best, so forgive me (and feel free to correct me!) if I've got something wrong here. 
> 
> Enjoy!

When Briggs was a child, she was afraid of the dark.

Her parents ran the biggest inn for miles around. The _Boar’s Head_ was never quiet or dark. The main room was always lit by a hearty fire, soldiers and adventurers clustered around it to share its warmth. The fire in the kitchens was only slightly smaller, food needed to feed the multitude of people who came through their doors each day. Flickering torches lined the hallways, and candles were kept lit in each room. Even the third story of the inn, where Briggs and her family slept, was never dark; if someone needed aid, the way had to be lit.

The rest of the world seemed downright dreary in comparison.

When she was old enough, Briggs began training amongst the paladins of the Silver Hand. She had always been a steadfast believer in the Light, along with her family. She was the first of her family, however, to want to leave their bright tavern in search of _more_. For a girl raised in a bright inn filled to the brim with stories of adventure each night, becoming a warrior of the Light felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The town she was stationed in was never dark, even on the blackest nights. Most houses had a fire going through the night to fight the cold, and their windows shone in the firelight. Tall lamps lined each street, illuminating the roads. The barracks were never dark, either. There was always a candle lit; some recruit writing a letter home, an officer reading reports, or a lovesick fool reading a letter from their lover. It never bothered Briggs; she had never slept in the dark anyways.

As she grew stronger, the Light seemed to fill her soul more and more. Briggs _felt_ bright. She felt like she glowed with her newfound power. Some nights, she’d summon a little bit of Light from her fingertips, just to enjoy the brightness of the soothing sparks. With her fellow soldiers by her side, and the Light’s comfort within her, she felt she could drive any darkness back.

She was wrong.

Darkness crept into Lordaeron, bit by bit, grain by grain. People grew sick. Her occupation as a paladin, though still low-ranking, meant that she was needed as a healer. Briggs accepted the responsibility readily, more than happy to drive the darkness away from her people.

To her dismay, not even the Light could cure the plague.

Briggs watched the lights in the town go out, one by one, day by day. First the baker’s home across the street. Then the blacksmith down the road. Then the seamstress, and the butcher. The town darkened. She still summoned Light to her fingers, at night, when she couldn’t sleep. She thought perhaps it was merely her age. She and her fellow trainees were so young compared to the senior healers who were typically called to help people. They just had to work harder. She’d save the next person who fell ill.

She did not.

The Light responded to her, of course. It just didn’t seem to be powerful enough. She wept even considering the possibility that she or the Light wasn’t strong enough to drive the illness back.

Briggs was sent home. _All_ of the paladins stationed with her were sent home. With the plague spreading, people were panicking. So she went home to her bright and cheery inn, and while the crowd had thinned since she had last visited, it was nowhere near empty. She stayed with her family at their inn, awaiting orders from the Silver Hand. Perhaps the worst of the plague was over, her parents said. Perhaps they just had to wait it out.

Inexplicably, one day, no one rented a room. The fire in the main room was doused for the first time in Briggs’ life. Cook said she wasn’t feeling well, and she doused the fire in the kitchen as well. Briggs’ parents took down the torches in the halls.

It was horribly dark.

For the first time in months, Briggs summoned a little Light to her fingertips. She wept herself to sleep that night, engulfed in darkness.

Prince Arthas visited their town the next day, surrounded by twenty knights. Briggs nearly wept in joy at seeing the light of the kingdom here, in her home. They were saved. The inn was a flutter of activity that day. Cook didn’t show up, so Briggs and her sister, Allison, spent the day bustling about in the kitchen, preparing what food they could. They wore their best dresses. The fires were re-lit. Briggs and her sister laughed and danced with each other as they worked into the evening.

The sound of a shrill scream pierced the air, interrupting them. They ran out of the kitchens, slipper-covered feet thudding on the wood floor. Briggs didn’t even let go of the tray of meat she’d been carrying, the knife hooked under her thumb. People were running out the door, and they followed. Briggs froze at the sight before her.

Cook lay dead in the street. Her skin was pale, nearly green. She had been stabbed through her chest, her blood pooling on the ground beneath her. It shone in the lamplight. One of Arthas’ knights stood above her, sword dripping with her blood.

Briggs dropped the tray she still held. It clattered on the stones at her feet, little squares of meat tumbling towards the puddle of Cook’s blood. She only barely caught the knife before it speared her foot. The knight that had killed Cook turned towards the noise.

“By Prince Arthas’ orders, this village must be purged,” he said simply.

There was a beat of silence, then, as the villagers gathered in the streets processed his meaning. Then, there was screaming, and a flurry of movement. The knights rushed forwards, towards the people they had once sworn to protect. Briggs stood frozen, watching the first wave of people, her friends, her _family_ , as they were slaughtered. One of the knights fortified his shield in a crackle of energy, _the Light_ , and rushed towards Briggs’ family.

Briggs reacted with the response that had been drilled into her in training. She raised her hands, and begged the Light to aid her. It came to her call, as it always had, but driven by fear, it was wild and untamed. A surge of energy blasted outward from her, slamming into the knight and sending him flying. And then, realizing that she alone could not stand against Arthas’ twenty knights, she ran.

Briggs ran into the dark.

She ran for hours, until her strength failed her and she collapsed and wept. She waited the rest of the night for one of Arthas’ knights to find her and kill her, but nothing ever happened. She wandered through the darkened forest for days, mourning the loss of her family, her village, her _country_. The Light could not cure the plague, but what kind of solution was _slaughtering_ innocent villagers? Not all of them had the plague. And how could they use the Light to kill their own people? The Light could be used as a weapon, sure, but it was meant to protect.

Briggs didn’t think she would ever get over the fact that she had seen the holiest power used to slaughter innocents, but she wiped her eyes and pressed on.

 

* * *

 

Years later, when Briggs was introduced to the paladins of the Argent Crusade, she nearly sneered. What good would the Light do against Arthas? What would they do, shield themselves with the power that had failed against the Scourge time and time again?

She sat up on the roof of the main building in the Argent Tournament, nursing a tankard of ale. She had been asked to help out at the Tournament, and it was killing her. The paladins practically radiated Light, and instead of comforting her like it used to, it grated on her. It made her uncomfortable, like the unsettling feeling of being watched prickling up her spine. It just felt _wrong_.

Pelei sat next to her after a number of hours and a second ale. “There you are,” she said, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. What are you doing, brooding on the roof?”

Briggs snorted. “Contemplating how much I hate this place,” she muttered into her mug. She took a swig.

“I thought this place would be heaven for you,” Pelei said. “Mounted combat? Daily rewards that include a hefty sum of gold? _Mounts_ for sale?”

Briggs stared down into her mug. “I hate paladins.”

“You…what?” Pelei sounded surprised.

“I. Hate. Paladins.” Briggs repeated testily.

“I heard you the first time,” Pelei said, “I don’t understand. We have, like, ten paladins in our guild. You get along with all of them just fine. Thom and Patty are practically your _parents_ at this point. You spend time with Darlene all the time. Briggs, your _daughter_ is a paladin.”

Briggs set her mug down, hugged her knees to her chest, and buried her face in her knees. “I know. I _know_. I don’t hate _them_ , I hate the Light.”

Pelei went quiet for a moment. “Is this a rogue thing?” She asked. “Because, like, that’s kind of…ridiculous. Hating the Light just because you sneak around in the dark.”

Briggs snorted and shook her head. “It’s not because I’m a rogue. It’s…It’s…” She sighed and lifted her head, finally meeting her friend’s eyes. “Did you know I used to be a paladin?”

Pelei’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

Briggs laughed bitterly. “All I ever wanted when I was a girl was to be a paladin. I dreamed of wielding the Light on the battlefield, protecting my people.” She reached for her mug and took another swig of ale.

“What happened?” Pelei asked.

Briggs pursed her lips. “The plague happened.” She went quiet for a few moments, unsure how much she wanted to say. She could still see Cook’s body in the street, the light from the streetlamps illuminating the puddle of blood. She could still feel the terror and anger at the knights for daring to use the Light against the people they were sworn to protect. “I watched as the Light was used to slaughter innocent people. I watched the Light _fail_. It couldn’t cure the plague.” Briggs wiped her eyes when tears threatened to spill over. “I watched the holiest weapon used for the darkest purpose. I. _hate._ Paladins.”

Pelei was silent for a time. “I’m sorry,” she whispered finally, “that must have been horrible.” Briggs didn’t respond, and the silence stretched on. “So…Is that why you became a rogue? You saw the Light used so wrongly, so you decided to utilize ‘dark’ powers for good?”

Briggs snorted out a laugh. “You give me too much credit. I’ll have to use that line from now on, when I tell people why I became a rogue.” She chuckled. “No, that’s not why I became a rogue. I decided I wanted nothing to do with the Light, but I could have become a warrior or something. I trained with a bow for a long time, actually. I have really steady hands. Good for throwing knives, too. No, I…it just felt right, I guess. I trained in a number of styles, but felt at home with daggers. I fought my way out of Lordaeron with only a kitchen knife and my best dress. I learned to keep to the shadows, to avoid fights whenever I could.”

Pelei laughed out loud. “Briggs, I can’t even imagine you _wearing_ a dress, never mind fighting in one. What kind of dress was it?”

Briggs hummed in thought. “Um, it wasn’t anything fancy. We didn’t have a lot of money to spend. It was dark blue, long sleeved, and cinched at the waist. The top was pretty modest; it went almost up to my collarbone, and was cut flat instead of rounded or cut like a ‘v’. It was long, too…the damn thing went all the way to my feet. I ripped it up terribly, traveling through the forest. I actually cut the side all the way up to my knee so I could move more easily.”

Pelei giggled. “Oh, that is priceless. I can only imagine what you looked like when you made it out!”

Briggs grinned. “Like a feral cat?” She suggested. Pelei bent over and slapped her knee, her laughter echoing out across the Tournament grounds. “I’m pretty sure the guards at the refugee camp were startled out of their script. What do you do when a woman shows up, caked in blood, hair frazzled and matted, wearing a ruined dress, _wielding a kitchen knife_? It’s not really appropriate to say, ‘hey there, we’ve got you, you’re safe,’ like they said to most of the refugees who showed up.”

Pelei held her stomach, and laughed uproariously. “What—what did they do?” She managed between peals of laughter.

Briggs shrugged and took a swig of her ale. “The two guards on duty at the entrance of the camp sort of stared at me for a long moment, blinking. I think I said something like, ‘are you with Arthas?’ They told me it was a refugee camp and then just wordlessly led me to the healer’s tent.” She laughed. “The healer even did a double take. I must’ve really looked like hell.”

Pelei wiped her eyes. “Haha, _shit_ that’s funny. And that’s why you’ve never worn a dress since?”

Briggs snickered. “I’ve worn dresses since!”

“When?” Pelei demanded, “I’m not sure I believe you!”

“Lunar New Year!” Briggs laughed, “I wore that green dress when we all went up to Moonglade for the fireworks!”

Pelei narrowed her eyes. “When even _was_ that? I don’t remember it.”

Briggs hummed in thought. “Maybe three years ago? It really wasn’t that long ago.”

Pelei gave her a flat look. “Okay, so you’ve worn a single dress since Lordaeron.”

Briggs rolled her eyes. “I wear them for holidays, sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Pelei mocked. Briggs shoved her. “Yeah, that’s not very much.”

“It’s more than never!” Briggs laughed. “Besides, I’m not used to dresses anymore. Pants are just more natural now. Not all of us run around in robes all day, you know.”

Pelei snorted. “True,” she acquiesced. They sat together for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. “So, are you done brooding? What do you say we get out of here? Somewhere with…less paladins.”

Briggs tipped back the last of her ale. “Yes, please. Back to my place? I’ve got some rhino meat I can cook up.”

Pelei stood and cast a portal to Stormwind. “I would die for your cooking, Briggs,” she said solemnly.

“Don’t actually die,” Briggs laughed, “I’d have no one to rescue me from paladins.”

Pelei giggled. “You’re a little drunk, Briggs,” she said, “Let’s get you home.”

Briggs just grinned as she walked through the portal and was engulfed in bright light.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been debating whether or not to publish this for a long time now. Depending on the response to this work, I may or may not publish the many, many others I have saved up. So if you're interested in more, please let me know! I have more for Briggs, and more for other OCs, and I would love to share my work. This is the trial run; if I get a positive response, I'll post more; if I get a negative response, I'll just keep them all to myself. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


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